Contradictions
by Selah25
Summary: Summary: Season 6 The conclusion. Follow Elle and the other survivors as their lives take an unexpected turn. What does it all mean?
1. Chapter 1

_Since LF is gone and LOST has taken a backseat, I felt I had to keep on writing to keep my character, my OC, Elizabeth Grecco, alive and well. To my fans and followers that were on here that read my first season of Elle, I apologize for never uploading the rest. But to those that still believe in her, as well, as me, please leave comments. LOST will never take a backseat in my life.  
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"_**Fly the ocean in a silver plane. See the jungle when it's wet with rain. Just remember 'til you're home again, you belong to me." -Michael Buble**_

_Australia: On its Side. _

The pleasant ding of the PA system alerted Elle to her current flight. She cocked her head to the side to double check and when the woman's Australian accent announced that Oceanic Flight 815 would be boarding, Elle, smoothed the front of her blouse, threw on her brown leather jacket, picked up her worn, messenger bag, and headed to the gate. Standing in line, she took notice of the people around her; that was something she didn't have to be paid to do, she liked to people watch, she was an observer.

A petite woman curled a blonde tress of hair around her finger and Elle nursed her lip as she noticed the woman's cuticles were bitten to the quick.

"Nervous," Elle mumbled to herself as she looked to her own polished fingernails and if it weren't for the thirty-dollar manicure she acquired while in Sydney, she'd be nipping at hers as well. What she had done, was careless. Careless, perhaps, but it was necessary. She had the papers in her bag and she focused on her daughter's face, luring her home, back in Los Angeles.

The young woman turned to check her surroundings and caught Elle's lingering gaze. Elle smiled politely and eyed the woman with care; she saw that she was round with child.

Elle pointed and asked, "How far along?"

The woman grinned, caressed her stomach with care, and shuffled from one foot to another; as if she was stepping on hot coals. _I almost forgot what that's like_, Elle smiled to herself as she took in the young woman's surreal expression.

"A few weeks left," she laughed, "but judging by all the kicking, I don't think they told _him_ that."

She rolled her incandescent blue eyes and Elle couldn't help but laugh along with her. It was as if she had known her from somewhere and she couldn't place her. What about this woman made her think of someone else? She gave her the once over; petite, wild, waves of blonde hair, and those sparkling blue eyes. Scanning the mental cortex of her memories, faces began to rush past her, and slowly they began to stop, until one face presented itself; Lily. A warm smile fanned itself across her face.

"Oh gosh," she put a hand to her hair and pulled at some invisible knots, then she patted her face, "I don't have something on my face do I?" she asked Elle, her Australian accent laced with worry, "I was in sort of a hurry this morning."

"No, not at all," Elle came to, "I'm Elizabeth," she offered her hand, "you just remind me of someone."

The woman took her hand and shook it, "Claire," she smiled, "is she pregnant too?"

"Lily?" Elle didn't stifle the laugh that came with the imagery, "We have a strict rule with her, if she can't keep a plant alive, she has no shot at raising a child."

Claire laughed and her cheeks turned a rosy shade of red. She looked over her shoulder as the line began to move, and shuffled herself along. "Been there," she sighed, "in fact I'm pretty sure I left the stove on and forgot to water my plants, before I got a taxi this morning."

"Witty," Elle winked, "you two have that in common too."

"Are you going to see family, in Los Angeles," Elle inquired, "have them meet the new man in your life?" She pointed to Claire's rotund stomach for emphasis.

At this, Claire blanched and Elle knew she had said something to upset her. She placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and apologized.

"I should probably remove the foot I just shoved into my mouth," Elle bit her bottom lip.

"No," Claire brushed her hand off, carefully, "no, it's not you, it's just I'm going to meet _a_ family, you know, potential parents, that are looking to adopt."

Elle nodded and Claire mentally kicked herself as the child within kicked at her as well,

"Oomph," she braced herself, "I don't know why I keep saying it's a 'him', but it's like I know," she looked up at Elle with those needy blue eyes, "you know?"

Elle smiled a familiar smile,

"That's intuition," Elle offered her and she searched within the breast pocket of her jacket and retrieved a card,

"If you need anything," she handed Claire the card, "while you're in Los Angeles," she tapped the front of the card, and Claire read the bold lettering,

**Det. Elizabeth Q. Grecco, LAPD**

**Special Operations Task Force**

**(818)555-1516 **

"No offense, Elizabeth," Claire said her name with a bit of uncertainty, "but I'm sure this trip won't end with anyone in handcuffs."

"Turn the card over," Elle motioned with a circulating index finger, "there's the name of a Social Worker who is assigned to my cases," Elle smiled warmly, "she's the one who could really help you out."

"I just promote her, since she's basically family," Elle's eyes laughed as she read Lily's name on the back of the card.

Claire turned the card over and read the information. She played with her bottom lip mulling over Elle's offer and felt as if it was too good to be true. Claire wondered to herself, why anyone, let alone a stranger on a flight out of Sydney, would want to help her. Elle noticed Claire was uncomfortable and attempted to assuage the situation.

"Even if you just need a familiar face to help you through the adoption process," Elle smiled, "call me, okay?"

"I'm always around," Elle cocked her head to the side and chuckled, "and I promise you, no handcuffs," she held up her two hands, "I swear."

"That's awfully generous of you," Claire bit at her lip to stifle it from trembling, "but I'm not some charity case, you know."

"I know that," Elle placed her hand on the girl's shoulder once more and squeezed, "I also know that what you're going through is something you shouldn't have to do alone."

"So call me," Elle pointed to the gate, the line had begun to move towards the terminal, "day or night."

Claire waved the card, nodded, and with that small gesture, the child inside calmed himself, and Claire too was ready for the flight to Los Angeles.

Inside the plane, Elle passed several rows from First Class, and headed towards the midsection of the plane, looking for her aisle seat, in Business Class. On her way, she noticed Claire stuffing her carryon into the overhead compartment and they locked eyes. Elle waved and moved on past her and found her seat; to her left was a man, with a tawny complexion, dark curls, and poignant black eyes.

He straightened himself up and smiled as Elle tossed her carryon into the overhead compartment. She struggled and he stood to offer his assistance,

"May I be of assistance?"

He reached around her and gently pushed her carryon into its spot and Elle turned, awkwardly, and found herself standing too close to the man, who, when she inhaled, reminded her of hot, gritty, sand, and the salty air, that smothered the skin. She closed her eyes and reveled in the images and when she opened them again, the man, still had not moved.

"Thank you," Elle's lip curled, "for your assistance."

The man stepped back from her, eyed her strangely, but being one not inclined to linger he returned her smile, and agreed as she suggested they both take their seats. She slipped out of her leather jacket, turned to sit down, when another man, briskly walked past her and slammed into her shoulder, spinning her around.

"You mind?" Elle didn't care that she came off a bit arrogant, but he did catch her off guard, something that rarely happened in her line of profession. He didn't seem to flinch from her aggressiveness, instead his green eyes flittered, a speck of desire floated past them, and when he spoke, Elle was reminded of maple syrup, thick, and sweet.

"Can't say that I did, Brownie Bits," he nodded taking in her molten chocolate eyes and for a second she too can't take her eyes off of him, but he graciously excuses himself, tapping his boarding pass to his temple and sighing,

"No, I didn't mind at all."

She could not for the life of her get him out of her mind and as she settles into her seat she is overcome by a warmth that starts in her stomach and rides its way up to her chest. She feels the plane crushing like a sardine can all around her and she exhales, the imagery too much to handle.

"Are you okay?" The man to her left asks and she releases her hands from the seat and reaches a shaky hand to the call button.

"Fine," she feigned a smile, "nothing a drink couldn't fix."

"Allow me," he presses the button for her and offers his hand, "I'm Sayid, and you are?"

"Elizabeth," she thanks him again, "but you can call me Elle."

"My pleasure, Elizabeth."

She pursed her lips and slowly began to smile, the warmth in his eyes, consoled her. She instinctively cocked her head to the side and with humor in her eyes shook his hand,

"Doesn't sound so bad when you say it."

Sayid had called the flight attendant over, and ordered their drinks. A vodka for Elizabeth, and a diet cola for himself. He wanted to pursue the conversation, with this beautiful, yet distant, woman, but as he glanced at her, he noticed she had focused on the aisle, ahead of them, staring determined and lost in thought. Instead, he adjusted the air conditioning above his head, and leaned back in his chair. He inhaled her perfume, light, and airy, with a hint of sand and surf, and sipped on his drink.

She shouldn't have been in Australia. She shouldn't have left that weekend, without her supervisor's permission. Hell, she may have been the number one detective in the Special Ops Unit, but that didn't give her the right to leave Los Angeles. Technically it was her weekend off; technically that meant she was still 'on-call'. She had numerous messages from her partner, which she deleted right away; his heart was in the right place, but she wasn't ready to hear him rant at her hastiness. Two were from her supervisor, wondering where the paperwork was on the case she was working on. Elle returned his promptly, directing him to her top drawer, third file folder in, and told him she'd see him on Monday morning.

Thinking back to the look on Sully's face when she located him at the hotel, she was glad she had left town. It wasn't her fault that he had skipped the legal proceedings, took flight and refuge in Sydney, Australia of all places, in the arms of his lover; the bane of Elle's existence. Nevertheless, it was just like Sully, to leave her, wanting. She despised having to rely on him and he knew that. Their divorce, albeit tedious, was final. The beatings, the bruises, the trips to the ER were over. She filed for full custody of their two year old daughter, and he absconded, the day of the hearing. She promised her lawyer that she'd leave it up to the police department to find him.

Bernard Nadler just wasn't quick enough to realize, she _was _the police department. And it wasn't until after trying to reach her, on her cell phone, and work cell, hearing the same message to her voicemails repeatedly, did he realize she had already booked a flight to Sydney. Dropping the phone back into its cradle with a small sigh, the old man shook his head; he wouldn't want to be in Sullivan's shoes, the moment Elle located his worthless hide.


	2. Chapter 2

_Island-Post Detonation_

Darkness.

The absolute contradiction to light was a contradiction in of itself. Darkness is and will always be the absence of light. However, to her, the darkness held searing secrets, memories that were to be obliterated. Her body ached. Her lower half felt heavy as if the world, literally collapsed upon her. Haggard, splintering breaths reeked havoc on her lungs. She sucked in dusty stale air and coughed. The metallic taste of copper laced her tongue. She tried to move her fingers, to wake them from the nightmare she was trapped in, but they hardly moved; trembling tensely awake, she forced herself to bring one hand to her mouth.

It connected; flesh to flesh, bone, to…syrup. Not the sweet, maple, liquid she'd pour on pancakes, but the thick, amber, syrup of disaster and pain.

Blood.

She knew that she had it on her, she could taste it, but she couldn't remember why.

A sound, small, frail, and even, stirred to her side. She craned her neck to gain a better angle but the pain ricocheted down her spinal column. Again, she heard it, echoing off her own cries of anguish, but this time it gravitated towards her as a bitter moan.

She tried to turn her head again, but the pain was inevitable. She pinched her eyes closed and when she opened them she saw it; a bicycle.

A red bicycle.

Blinking, she forced her eyelids open, and stared at it. That wasn't there when she fell.

But all she could see above her was darkness. No shaft, no light, nothing, but concrete. Was that a ceiling?

She focused her eyes on the bicycle. It was rusty around the spokes, its handles were dull, and the rear tire was flat. As beautiful as it was, it was just as sad. The color, the vibrant red, stood out amongst the other debris, like a beacon. Calling her home.

Something moved from behind the bicycle, small, movements, almost as if someone's hand was waving towards her. Or were they reaching for something? She strained her eyes and saw the pale fingers and somehow this stirred her so, that she called out to the hand, desperate and delusional.

"H…hello?" her voice was raspy like a swarm of bees. The air stilled around her as she waited and then the heaviness of the anticipation rose from her chest as a voice answered back in the darkness.

"Elle?" a short, labored breath escaped, "Elle?"

The voice called her by name; it was familiar, yet painstakingly unfamiliar all the same. She swam through the pictures in her mind and settled on a face she recognized as her own.

"Yea…yes," she answered and whispered to herself, "that's me."

"Can you move?" the voice beckoned her but Elle shook her head and stopped. She couldn't see her but she knew she needed to. It hurt so much to talk but she forced herself.

"I…I think something's pinning me down," she felt around her waist and connected with the smooth edges of something wooden, something large. Perhaps a table? She felt along the edges and ran her fingers to the top and wrapped a few fingers around the net. It was a ping-pong table.

"_Dude, if I win," _he raised an eyebrow in all seriousness, skimming over her head to the person to her left. If only she could see them, she tried to remember, but the man's words lingered_, "you don't use nicknames for a week."_

"Jules?" she called her friend's name out and the darkness began to dissipate.

"What happened?" the panic in her voice frightened her and she began to tremble as the table began to become heavier, the tightness of the space, tunneling in around her, confining her to such terror caused her to scream out,

"Where are we?" her words reverberated off the enclosure.

Juliet waited for Elle to catch her breath, to calm down, before she took all she had to mumble,

"Not the airport."

Elle grimaced at the retort and a tearful, choked, laugh, escaped her throat.

"The bomb," she swallowed the disappointment, "I watched you set it off."

"Yeah," Juliet sighed from behind the bicycle, "what good did that do?"

Elle scanned her surroundings, looking at the fallen debris that was eye level. She saw a computer, shattered, a mattress torn to pieces, books charred and pages dismembered, and she closed her eyes as she concluded,

"It's the Swan," she remembered the blast, one that Juliet had not been around for, one that wasn't Juliet's doing.

She saw the Dharma logo, the charred Swan, and growled,

"It didn't work."

Her brain kicked into overdrive, as memories flashed from behind closed eyelids. She saw Sawyer's stricken face, screaming at her to hold on. She saw Juliet fall, her blue eyes fading into the belly of the shaft. She saw the bomb. She recalled the metallic clashing as Juliet banged it, repeatedly.

"Oh…my…God," Elle exhaled as she saw her children, their peaceful sleeping faces on the submarine and with them in mind she garnered all her energy, all of her anger, pain, and disbelief into her muscles and pushed at the load on her legs.

"C'mon," she spat, as she pushed at the ping-pong table, "you son of a bitch," she grit her teeth. It hardly budged. The pain in her wrist was unbearable. She couldn't muster enough strength in both limbs to push the table off; she was going to have to push, regardless of the pain. She inhaled, held her breath, and forced her hands to do the pushing while her legs did the lifting.

"Come," she pushed with all her strength, "on!"

The table screeched as she pushed it, the sound amped her adrenaline, and she struggled to push it further. Lifting it, barely inches from her waist, Elle sent it toppling over, as she slammed her hands into it, causing it to collapse only inches from her body. The power she had felt in her legs, what she had used to prop the table up from beneath it, lessened and a wave of pins and needles rushed over her.

"Elle?" Juliet's voice wavered, "What was that?"

"Stupidity," Elle slammed her head back on the cool concrete floor of the hatch and unclenched her jaw. She lifted her left arm towards her chest and held it close. She could feel that it was swollen.

"Jules," Elle spoke to her from behind closed eyelids, "can you make it over to me, follow my voice?"

"I don't think that's possible," Juliet's voice cracked, and a harrowing laugh escaped her lips,

"I can't feel my legs."

"Oh, Jules," Elle cringed, knowing Juliet had known all along that regardless of what happened, she wasn't going to walk again.

"It could be temporary," Juliet coaxed her, almost reading her thoughts, "but I," her voice faltered, "I don't think so."

"Alright," Elle bit her lower lip and tried to sit up, "give me a few minutes," she began to massage the sensation back into her legs, "and I'll come to you."

"No," Juliet's voice rose in frustration, "if you can find your way over to me, you can find a way out of here."

"That's what you're going to do."

"Juliet," Elle meant to sound condescending, "you're in no position to tell me what to do."

"I may not be in the right position, Elizabeth," Juliet was wounding, "but this…all of this…I did for you and you followed me down the rabbit's hole like some sort of lemur."

"So forgive me for being a bit officious, but what in the hell were you thinking?"

"Officious?" Elle laughed, "Who the hell uses 'officious'?"

"The same person who is about to make you swear on your own life that you leave me here and find a way out of this goddamned hatch."

"I won't do that, Jules," Elle turned herself over, sat back on her haunches, and scanned the room, looking for some sort of light. She could make it to Juliet, she just had to barrel through some wreckage. The first thing she had to do was move that damn bicycle which appeared to be wedged between the remnants of the counter and sink. She began the trying task of hefting objects and winced at the pain in her abdomen. It was taking long, using one hand to push and pull. She forced herself to use both hands, but fighting the pain was causing her to become lightheaded. She tore off the bottom of her shirt and made a makeshift sling, using her teeth to tie off the knot.

"Damn it," she coughed and wiped her hand across her forehead, and something dark caught her eye. She brought her hand closer to her face and scrutinized it, lifting her hand to her nose, she inhaled the scent of pennies.

Blood. She was coughing up blood.

"What is it," Juliet asked but Elle ignored her and fought through the rubble.

"Save your breath," Elle swallowed knowing it was she who should be conserving her energy.

"Elle," Juliet was concerned, "tell me."

"There's blood," she made sure, where she tossed the books and boxes were in the direction of an inaccessible exit. From what she could gather, it was the bunker of the Swan, where they kept Ben hostage. She knew there would be an air duct, but she wasn't going to risk climbing up and over, only to be stuck in-between.

"Nothing I can't handle," Elle lied as she threw another piece of scrap metal to the side.

"I can't see you, but I know you're lying," Juliet fired back and Elle stopped short. A small smile spread across her lips and she retorted,

"You know what I'm hearing?" Elle sucked in a breath to regain her composure, "Blah, blah, blah."

"Why do you sound closer, Elle," Juliet let out a frustrated sigh, "when we both know I told you to find a way out?"

She found what appeared to be a broken chair leg and wedged it between the bicycle and the counter top. Using all her upper strength, she felt the two burdensome objects begin to sway. The bicycle keeled over, she dragged it towards her, and pushed it to the side, the broken bell atop the handlebars, created an ominous sound. She wedged herself in between the countertop and the wall and found Juliet.

"Jules," Elle wiped the sweat from her brow, "when have you ever known me to take any of your advice?" Elle's chest felt heavy as she took a moment to catch her breath. She realized it was getting more difficult to inhale and she fought the pounding in her ears to make it towards Juliet.

Elle's snarky demeanor paled in comparison when she saw her friend in dire straights. Her lower torso was crushed beneath the countertop and all Elle could see was the upper half of her friend, bloodied and dusty.

"Hey," Elle rushed to her side, "hey, it's okay, I'm here, I got you." Juliet closed her eyes and shook her head, a single tear slid down her cheek and she opened her eyes. She was angry, that was clear.

"I told you to leave me," she choked on a laugh, "there's no happy ending for me."

"And there is for me?" Elle shouted, raising her uninjured hand in defeat.

What light there was, shone on her and Juliet saw the crimson blood that had caked onto her skin.

"You have a chance to get out of here, Elle," Juliet begged her, "please, just let go."

Elle took her hand and held onto it, squeezing her friends hand as she spoke. "I can't do that."

Juliet squeezed her hand back and then forced herself from Elle's grip,

"You have to."

Elle closed her eyes as she slouched to her knees. Silent tears fell from her eyes as the face of Sawyer glimmered past her eyelids. That look in his eyes, of pure fear, the way his eyes dilated in shock when she wriggled from his grasp, begging him to let her go. The way his voice croaked her name. She shuddered. It was as if he was there with her now. She looked to the ceiling and screamed,

"No!"

Her voice echoed down the abandoned hatch and in the silence she heard him and for a moment all was calm. She felt Juliet tug on her arm and shout for her to listen.

"Did you hear that?" they both strained their ears to listen.

"It was just the hatch," Elle shook her head, "old pipes, rusted metal."

"No," Juliet pulled her closer and she put her lips to Elle's ear and whispered, her breathing becoming more shallow,

"It's Sawyer."

Elle's eyes, wide in shock, held herself close to her friend's face and stroked the side of it. Juliet sighed, a small smile graced her face, and she mumbled,

"It worked."

"What worked, Jules," Elle shook her friend, but Juliet was lost to her, her words incoherent, her thoughts somewhere else.

"Maybe we'll meet for a cup of coffee," Juliet smiled and Elle fought back tears, nodding a silent yes.

"Sure, Jules," Elle caressed her face as she pulled her friend into her lap, "it'll be like old times."

"Yeah," Juliet's life escaped her body with one last breath and she opened her eyes, looking at Elle.

"_He's here."_

"Jules?" Elle shook her friend, but her lifeless eyes stared back at her and as she struggled with her death, she couldn't stomach those blue eyes, and closed them over with a wave of her hand.

"Why?" Elle screamed out, repeating her question, pounding her fists into the hatch's walls. She screamed until her throat ached and her stomach turned into knots. She let her head fall back against the steel enclosure and exasperated,

"Help me!"

She lost consciousness for a bit but something stirred her awake; a voice, familiar, calling out to her from the darkness.

"Elle!" his voice was raspy and desperate but she would have known it anywhere.

"Sawyer?" she called out to him and screamed for help again.

"Elle!" She could hear scuffling above her and she thought she was imagining things. She looked down at her deceased friend and repeated her chilling last words in awe,

"_He's here."_


	3. Chapter 3

_Island 2007_

Squatting next to a badly wounded Sayid, Hurley was trying his hardest not to vomit; even worse, pass out. Repeating a mantra in his head, he vowed he wouldn't faint.

"Not gonna happen, dude, not gonna happen," Hurley murmured and Sayid looked on conspicuously.

"In time, Hurley, it will," Sayid coughed violently and blood spattered from his mouth onto Hurley's clothes.

"Ugh, Dude," Hurley knitted his caterpillar like eyebrows into a deep V and swallowed bile. He wondered how long it would take Jin to hurry back with Jack. After another flash and what Jin surmised by the headache and muffled ears, was another trip through time, he could hear Sawyer shouting about how Jack said the plane would never crash on the Island.

"That didn't just happen," Hurley pressed some bandages Jack had torn onto Sayid's blood soaked wound and muttered,

"Oh, God, oh God, this is gross."

Sayid continued to cough and gag on his own blood and Hurley was doing his best to remain calm, cool, and collected. It was proving unsettling, however.

"Why did Jin leave me here?" He looked around him and could still hear his friend, Sawyer, shouting profanities from somewhere down the ridge.

Weakly, Sayid looks up at Hugo with concerned eyes and asks, "What do you think will happen to me, when I die?"

_You'll probably come back to yell at me like the others_, Hurley wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, he tried to get Sayid to focus on the positive.

"Dude, just try not to talk, okay?"

"I've tortured many people," Sayid inhaled sharply, his eyes becoming like pinpricks in the dusk, "I murdered, Hugo, wherever I'm going," he closed his eyes and whispered, "it can't be very pleasant."

"Sayid," Hurley looked down at his blood tinged hands and forced himself not to regurgitate, "come on."

"I deserve it," Sayid replied with contempt and finality.

Behind him, Hurley could hear leaves rustling and as quickly as he could get to his feet, he turned to face Jin, but saw nobody. Again, from the rear of the van, he could hear more rustling as if someone was approaching. He looked down at Sayid who had closed his eyes and continued to wheeze as the blood pooled into his chest. He leaned over into the van and grabbed a gun, dropped it, checked the magazine, and wobbled it between his hands.

"Jin!"

Hurley walked around the van and held the gun out away from him, and cursed himself for having such shaky hands.

"I've got a gun," he shouted and held it tighter, trying to steady it and cock it, "and I know how to shoot it!"

The air around him stilled and a voice called out to him. Hurley spun around and stood face to face with a man, with short, light hair, and a familiar smile. He recognized the man from his cab ride after he was freed from jail.

"Hello, Hugo," the man smiled, "you got a minute?"

Hurley watched as the familiar stranger, another contradiction, walked away from him, not even having the courtesy to wait for Hurley's response. Hurley shuffled after the man and questioned from behind him,

"Where you goin' dude," Hurley exclaimed in frustration, "and not for nothin' but what are you doin' here?" The man continued to walk back to Sayid and the van, ignoring Hurley's persistent questioning.

"I mean, come on, I meet you in a taxi and you know everything about me, you give me a plane ticket which just so happens to get me back to this Island."

"How'd you know that was going to happen?"

He watched as the man knelt next to a somber Sayid and still ignored Hurley's incessant chatter.

"Look, dude," Hurley put his hands to his hips and stood defensively, "my friend Jin is going to be here any second so you better stop ignoring," but the stranger sighed and interrupted him,

"Your friend Jin won't be able to see me, Hugo."

"Why not?" Hurley asked perplexed.

"Because I died an hour ago." Jacob stood and faced Hurley and he felt sorry for the man.

"Sorry, dude, that sucks."

"Thanks." Jacob smiled and walked nearer to Hurley who took a step backward, wary of Jacob's presence.

"You want me to do something crazy again, right?"

"No, Hugo," Jacob looked to Sayid and then back beyond Hurley's shoulders, where the others were racing to save Elle.

"I need you to save Sayid," he paused, "and your friend Elizabeth."

"Well, that's why Jin went to get Jack," it was now Hurley's time to pause, "wait, what's wrong with Elle?"

"Hugo, there isn't much time," Jacob pressured him, "Jack won't be able to save them, you have to take them to the Temple."

"That's their only chance at survival and the others, your friends, will be safe there."

"What Temple?" Hurley raised his eyebrows, "Dude, is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Jin will know, tell him to take you to the hole in the wall where he found the French team," Jacob watched as Hurley's face blanched and his pupils dilated with worry.

"I know this is a lot, Hugo," Jacob's tone was warm, "but you still have that guitar case I gave you?"

"Yeah…," Hurley was uncertain how that played into saving his friends.

"Bring it." Jacob ordered.

"Dude," Hurley exasperated, "_who_ are you?"

"Jacob."

The man smiled, as he spoke his name, and disappeared right in front of Hurley's eyes, just as Jin came barreling over the ridge and yelled at Hurley to get Sayid into the van, because Elle needed their help. Hurley did a double take as the mention of Elle's name and helped Jin lift Sayid into the back of the van. Hurley sat with Sayid while Jin drove back to the Swan.

"Uh, Jin," Hurley spoke from the back of the van, "if I asked you to take me to like, a Temple, where there's a hole in the wall," he paused, watching Jin's reflection in the rearview mirror, "where you went with the French team, would you know what I was talkin' about?"

Jin's eyes were round with speculation in the mirror, he was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke,

"Yes."

Hurley watched as Jin nodded his head and smiled, grateful and cautious at the same time,

"Good." He watched as Sayid's troubled breath became labored and remembered something Jacob had said about Elle.

"Dude, what's wrong with Elle?"

Jin sped the van closer to the Swan and slammed on the breaks. Hurley could see his friends rallied over the debris and stopped short in his tracks,

"Uh, is that the hatch?"

Jin nodded and ran to the top of the clearing and called down to Jack. He turned to Hurley and began to explain Elle's situation.

"She's alive," Jin pointed to the rubble, "but trapped."

Hurley watched as Kate was trying to pull a headstrong Sawyer away from the metal slabs that had piled on top of the hatch. Sawyer was fighting Kate off, yelling Elle's name at the top of his lungs. Kate pushed him from the site of the Swan crater,

"Sawyer, stop it! Stop it, the van's here!" she pointed to the ridge.

"She's ain't makin' anymore noises!" he rounded Kate and fell to his knees, pulling at the metal slabs, but like Elle, he couldn't budge them either.

"No, no, she knows we're here, she's probably just resting," Kate willed with all her might that her words would ring true, but they fell on deaf ears.

"Elle!" he shoved his face into the crater, but couldn't adjust his eyes to see much of anything. His voice echoed down the shaft.

Jack rushed to the van to acquire the chains; he climbed the dirt wall of the crater and Jin tossed him the chains, while attaching the hook to the rear bumper of the van. As Jack sprinted back down, slipping and sliding most of the way, Sawyer looked up towards him from behind his disheveled hair, his eyes glowing with rage,

"If she dies," he looked back at Kate and swore, "I'll kill him."

Kate didn't respond with words, but her eyes, locked on Jack and they widened with concern. She knew Sawyer a little too well and was frightened for Jack's well-being. Knowing she couldn't do anything about that now, she handed Sawyer a flashlight while he shouted up to Jin to start the van's engine.

"Okay, Jin," he rechecked the chains, "we're good down here," Jin revs the engine in neutral before hitting the gas, "hit it!"

The power of the van was exactly what they needed to get the job done. They all took positions on either side of the metal slab and while using the strength in their limbs and lifting from their squatting stances, the slab had become looser and moved enough for Sawyer to lower himself down the shaft.

Sawyer jumped into the opening, the flashlight held between his teeth, and lowered himself down. Scanning his surroundings, he can't believe it's actually the Swan. Thoughts swarm his mind. Why did they build it after all they had done to stop it from being built? Where were they exactly, in time? More so, where the hell was Elle?

He called out to her and skimmed the light from the flashlight around the dark corridors. "Elle?" he barreled through the debris like a mad bull, tossing things from side to side. He stopped short, his breath taken from him; he saw her, on her side, barely breathing. Running towards her, as best he could, he squatted down next to her and pulled her into his lap.

"Elle, baby, come on," he stroked her face, "I'm here, I got you." He examined her, noticing the cuts and bruises and the way her left arm was curled towards her in a sling.

Elle stirred and looked up at him, curiosity in her eyes, "Sawyer," she coughed, "she said it worked."

"Who did," Sawyer hugged her close, grateful she had survived the fall.

"Jules," Elle coughed again, her breath rattling in her chest.

"Is she here," he scanned the area for Juliet but couldn't see her, "Juliet!" he shouted, but all was silent except for Elle's labored breathing.

Elle pointed towards the back of the Swan and wimpered, "She's gone."

She reached up and cupped his face in her hand and smiled, gazing into his bloodshot eyes,

"She hit the bomb," she told him and his eyes rounded in shock,

"She did what, now?"

"She tried to save us, but," Elle swallowed, "it didn't work," she bit down on her lip to stifle the pain that was lurking inside her, "did it?"

"We're still here on this Island," he thought he heard her laugh, but it was clouded with phlegm.

"Not now, okay," he searched for the way he had entered, "I'm goin' to get you out'a here, okay, we're all goin' to go home together, you hear me?"

"You should have let me die," she mumbled and Sawyer's loving gaze turned cold.

"_What?" _ he growled. It was the pain talking, he told himself, but the look in her own eyes, was familiar, something he had first noticed when they crashed; they were empty. Not wanting her to repeat herself, he kissed her forehead and whispered he'd never let her go. She ran her fingers through his hair and whispered, her tone lighter, as if she was not herself.

"You have to do something for me," Elle began to come around, ignoring the pain, she knew if it hadn't been for Juliet, she would not have made it this far.

"Name it," Sawyer smiled, noticing the change in her as well.

"Bury her," she made him swear, "I don't want her to be alone."

"Yeah, sure thing," he helped her to sit up, "you think you can walk out of here, while I get her?"

"I'll manage," she nodded and sat back on her heels as she inhaled. She watched as he crawled back towards the spot where she had left Juliet, trying to find her own way out. She hadn't gotten far, the air supply was becoming thin, and she must have lost consciousness. That's how he had found her. She watched as he struggled to pry Juliet free of the fallen countertop. She saw his face sink as he absorbed the tragedy of it all. He hefted Juliet's broken body into his arms and stood, his head, positioned uncomfortably due to the low ceilings. He called out to Elle, telling her that he left the flashlight near her. She was going to have to light the way. She felt around, gripped her fingers tightly around the cool metal cylinder, and twisted it until it shown brightly.

Sawyer found his way back to Elle who was waving the flashlight from left to right, trying to find the easiest way out. Then she saw it; a clear cut path to the exit. She rubbed at her eyes and felt the urge to punch the wall, but held back. Instead, she sighed heavily and shook her head.

"What it is?" Sawyer asked, as he shifted the weight of Juliet's body in sync with his own.

"This path," the incandescent blue light of the flashlight shone brightly, "you cleared it?"

"No, was like that when I made my way down," he looked towards her and noticed the absent look on her face, "why?"

"It was this close and I couldn't find an out," she placed one foot in front of the other, testing the ground she walked on, afraid it would just fall out from beneath her.

"Maybe you couldn't find the way out," Sawyer brushed alongside her, "'cause you gave up."

"Sawyer," Elle said his name, but it was as empty as her eyes, there was no use in arguing, he was right.

He turned and looked at her, wanting to shake her, wake her from this stupor she was in, but his heart ached for her. He thought he had lost her and here she was; a bit banged up but alive. That was all that mattered. Knowing she had taken the easy way out, once, frightened him.

"Listen," he turned toward her and stood face to face, Juliet's body hung limply in his arms, "I swear to you, you ever, _ever_, do that to me again, you better hope I don't find you."

"James," she raised her chin and her lip trembled, "they're gone."

"Damn it, Elle," he fought back the urge to holler what he was thinking, that she was a goddamned broken record, his spit warming in his mouth, "don't you think I know that?"

"Did it ever cross your mind that I lost ma' babies too," he sighed, "but you didn't see me give up, did you?"

Elle felt a stab of guilt hit her chest. "No."

"But I'd be damned if I didn't think about it, but I knew I had one thing keepin' me goin'," his eyes softened and Elle knew it was her.

"Then she _let go_." There was bitterness in his voice.

"You let go, and I'm still here." He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer, squeezing her. She flinched and he apologized.

"But they're," she couldn't finish it, but her insides felt hollow, her womb, barren. The cold look in his eyes stopped her from continuing.

"They may be, but we ain't." He pushed at her gently and told her to get a move on. She managed to follow the path quiet easily and crawled upward towards the natural light that beckoned her.

"Sawyer?" Kate hollered down, "Is she okay?"

Elle wanted to shout, to scream her lungs out, _No, no I'm not okay, I should be dead! _ Instead, she feigned the courage to answer Kate,

"We're comin'!"

Using her good arm to balance and lift herself up, she made her way out of the hatch and saw her friends standing idly by; Kate ran towards her, but stopped short, Elle didn't return her smile, nor embrace her. Rather, she shifted to the side, waited for Sawyer to emerge with Juliet, and her coldness spread towards Jack. She eyed him with malice and grit in her teeth,

"_You_ did this."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 1-Part 2

_If looks could kill_, Hurley remembered the old cliché, as he watched his good friend Elle emerge from the hole in the earth, stare straight through Kate, and land her clouded, angry eyes, on Jack. Jack, relieved that Elle was alive, couldn't control his mouth as it spread into a small smile, but soon receded into a thin line, as he heard the hatred in Elle's voice. He stumbled down the hill towards her, his voice shaken, his hands trembling, as he reached for her.

"Elle, I'm so sorry," he managed to get out, but not before she went to lunge for him. Hurley quickened his steps, amazed that she was indeed alive, and stepped in-between a feral Elle and a submissive Jack.

He threw his arms around her, breaking the tension, and lifted her into a massive bear hug, whispering into her ear,

"Dude, you're okay," Elle could feel his smile on her cheek but kept her limbs limp at her sides, "I knew you'd be," Hurley set her down and looked at her, trying to find his friend hiding behind those eyes of the woman in front of him, "Jacob's a tool."

Hurley's cheerful expression soon turned dismal, for Elle began to cough violently, blood sputtering from her lips, landing on the front of Hurley's face and chest. He blanched as he wiped the blood from his face and mumbled, "Dude, not again."

Elle faltered and reached for Sawyer, who just happened to be too far from her reach, she cursed him silently, swayed, and fell into Hurley's outstretched arms. He tried to steady her with one hand, as she continued to cough up blood. Hurley and Sawyer simultaneously called out for assistance, each calling for the one person Elle didn't want near her.

"Doc!"

"Jack!"

She could feel her body begin to give up on itself, the air becoming too thick to inhale, the blood, even thicker, beginning to fill in her lungs. She was going to drown. After all she had been through on this ill-fated Island, she was going to drown in her own blood. Sawyer, fluidly handed Juliet's body over to a surprised Miles, and ran to Elle's side. He didn't bother to push Hurley out of the way, instead he cradled her into his body, trying his best to comfort her, to get her comfortable, with Hurley's arms around her as well.

Sawyer pulled at Elle's eyelids, trying to get her to come around, tension and worry in his voice,

"Let me see you," he slapped her face gently, willing her to come back to him. When her eyes closed again and a slow rattle erupted from her throat, Sawyer's head shot back and he stared up to the sky, growling,

"Damn you!"

Threatening a God he once thanked for his babies, thunder rumbled in the sky, dark clouds rolled in, smothering the light from the sun, a lightening bolt split the sky into shattered pieces, hitting a tree not too far off in the distance. Hurley looked at Sawyer and mumbled,

"Uh, I wouldn't do that, Dude," to which Sawyer shot daggers from his eyes,

"Shut it, Hugo."

Kate watched as Jack rushed to Elle's side and reached for her. Sawyer recoiled from his hands. Jack persuaded him with one look and Sawyer allowed him to lay Elle onto the ground. Jack leaned over her, placed his ear on her chest, and silently counted to himself. He could hear a faint flapping coming from her chest as he examined her. Her lips once red, were now, pale blue, her breathing had slowed tremendously.

"It's her lung," Jack speaks directly to Sawyer, "it's collapsed."

"Then fix it," Sawyer growls and winces as Jack falters before he speaks.

"I…can't…," Jack looks around the blasting site, and turns his pockets inside out, "I need something sharp, a needle, a pen," he searches the eyes of the others and they all stare back speechless, knowing they don't have anything to save their friend. Jack's mind flashes quickly back to the first day on the Island and how, to his chagrin, Boone returned on an asinine adventure with a handful of ballpoint pens. Jack shakes the memory with a quick, shake of his head, side to side.

Sawyer grabs Jack by the collar of the shirt and pulls him so close their noses are touching. Jack can feel the heat from Sawyer's words before he even speaks. Jack, wanting to close his eyes, refrains, as Sawyer's voice erupts into a slow, angry, growl,

"What do you mean, 'you can't'?"

"I mean just that, I can't, Sawyer." Jack swallows and the words begin to flow from his mouth like verbal diarrhea.

"I don't have the necessary tools, I can't even begin to estimate how long she's been like this, she's rarely conscious," Jack reaches for a pulse and Sawyer swats his hand away.

"_Don't_."

"Can you get her to the van?" Hurley asks and Sawyer blinks back tears as he focuses on his friend's face.

"What for?" the southerner asks him wondering why Hurley has even suggested the van.

"I can help her," Hurley points up the ridge, "and Sayid."

Kate and the others stare blankly at Hurley who is standing with his feet planted firmly in the ground, his expression stern. Hurley senses their disbelief and he shouts at Jack,

"Can you save her, Jack?"

Jack shakes his head and murmurs, "No."

"Then back off and let me do this," Hurley points up towards Jin,

"We have to get her to the van," he looks upward and notices the sky has begun to lighten, the impending dawn is upon them.

"We're losing time, we have to get them to the Temple."

"What Temple?" Sawyer exasperates.

"I know where it is!" Jin hollers down, his hands forming a horn around his mouth.

"We must hurry!"

Sawyer begins to gather Elle in his arms so they can begin to carry her towards the van. Her eyes flutter open and she struggles to breathe. Sawyer sighs as she reaches for his face, and allows his head to fall into her hand. She strokes his face with her thumb, her breath is shallow.

"Swear…to…me…," she begs him, he closes his eyes and kisses her hand,

"Anything," his lips raise bumps on her skin; he always had that effect on her.

"You find…our…family."

Sawyer begins to sob uncontrollably, his body quakes, Jack reaches for him, but Sawyer shakes him off. Elle's struggling to breathe and when he doesn't answer her, she forces herself to raise her voice,

"_Swear_…James."

"I swear," he kisses her tenderly on the mouth, his saline tears coat the kiss, and she welcomes them into her mouth, and then she allows the darkness to envelope her. He can feel she is gone; her body lays limply in his arms.

"James," Jack reaches for Elle's body, "let us have her."

"Like Hell, Doc," Sawyer growls and Kate rests a hand on his shoulder,

"James," she says his name and his heart splits open.

"Don't call me James, Freckles." Kate swallows and nods,

"Sawyer, she'll be okay," Kate offers her hands palms up, "please, just give her to us."

"I'm goin' with her," Sawyer grumbles and Kate shakes her head, remembering Juliet's body.

"What about Juliet?"

Sawyer turns and looks at their deceased friend and silently sobs, "I promised her I'd bury her," he regrets the promise immediately. He wants to be at Elle's side. He doesn't want to leave her. He refuses to leave her even if she had already left him once before.

"Then bury her," Kate whispers, "we'll leave a trail for you."

"Yeah, Boss," Miles offers his assistance as he hefts Juliet's body into his own arms, "I'll stick with you and Juliet, then we'll meet them at the Temple."

Sawyer rocks Elle's lifeless body in his arms, cradling her, so he can kiss her eyelids, her cheeks, her ear, her neck, he can't seem to feel anything when he detracts his salty lips from her cool skin. She's turned a frightening shade of blue and he can't feel her breath as he places one last kiss on her lips.

"She's gone." He fortifies himself and hands her to Jack. He eyes the man with ferocity and Kate assists. She turns to Sawyer and raises an eyebrow,

"She's not gone," she reassures him, but it's as if he's already come to terms with her death, before she's even gone.

"She will be if we don't leave, like, now," Hurley interrupts.

Sawyer stays behind with Miles, who is holding Juliet's body, quite awkwardly. He watches the trio climb slowly to the top, holding Elle's body firmly, as comfortably as possible. A slow song begins to form in Sawyer's mind as he flashes to a memory, a funeral, of his parents. The death march plays in his head and the tears fall silently down his dirty face.

His eyes are swollen from crying, their once green and illustrious shimmer, has dulled to an almost gray, the whites of his eyes now bloodshot, the tiny vessels like track marks on an addict's arm. He is sitting with one knee bent, his back against a tree. His arm is slung lifelessly over the raised knee. Miles shuffles nearby.

"Boss?" his voice cracks.

"Ain't your Boss, no more," Sawyer mumbles.

"Right, sure," he heaves Juliet so she fits better in his arms, "let's bury her, it's what Elle wants."

"_Wanted_ Enos," Sawyer growled through clenched teeth.

Miles doesn't reply. He knows there isn't any use arguing with Sawyer, not like this. He watches as his leader, his boss, his one time partner, clambers to his feet, his fists curled, his eyes focused on the heavens. He backs away, giving Sawyer space. He watches as he walks to the opening in the ground, where she had been rescued, and begins to shout.

"Why her, you bastard," he points a bronzed finger towards the dark sky, "why her too?"

What did he expect? A large, Zeus like hand to come down from the skies, lift him up and coddle him like the child he felt he was? It was replaying in his head; the day he had lost his parents. All he wanted was someone, anyone, to come and rescue him, to tell him it would be okay, but no one came. No one came while he was immersed in the thick, crimson, syrup that dripped onto his wooden floor; no one came when he tried to wake his mama up. Not one goddamned soul. He was alone. However, she had changed that.

And now she had left him; again. Their children; gone. Elle; gone. What else was he to do, but to get 'gone' himself?

Miles let him yell, beat his fists into the trees until his knuckles were bloodied and torn. He waited throughout the silence too that followed and then Miles spoke.

"What about Juliet?"

"What _about_ her?" Sawyer snarled and turned on his heel, pointed a finger at Miles and ordered him, "Git goin' Miyagi, ain't nothin' here for you to see."

"But…," Miles protested and reeled as Sawyer charged at him, shoving him hard.

"You deaf?" Sawyer shouted in his face, "I said _git_!"

Sawyer watched as a defeated Miles retreated from him and inhaled the stale air. He counted five deep breaths and closed his eyes, recalling Elle's face, the way she laughed at Sammy's first steps, the way her nose crinkled when Charlee called her 'One', the way she looked when Aidan tugged on her hand and called her "Mama." He'd do this for her, but then he was keeping his promise to himself. He'd help bury Juliet but then he planned to disappear. _Ain't no use survivin' if she wasn't with him to do so._

He absentmindedly searches his pockets for the nicotine filters he quit years ago. Mumbling incoherent curses, he raises himself and rocks on his haunches, hearing the van's engine fading in the distance, heading for a Temple he had never seen, while campusing the grids looking for the others. The air around him begins to stir, raising miniscule bumps on his arms, the tiny hairs on his neck, too began to rise, and he hears them, whispers, circling the trees that surround him. Sawyer slowly stands and cranes his neck to the left, but quickly pans his eyes toward the right, where the whispers incoherently wrap themselves around him.

"Miles!" Sawyer's gravel like voice rises just above a shout, but his pal is nowhere in sight.

Sawyer walks cautiously toward the sounds that continue to fade in and out, a stir of echoes, their jumbled words, swarm around him, like a cloud of yellow jackets. He strains his ear to catch the words and as he registers them, the southerner's natural bronzed skin blanches. The words bleed into one another, and Sawyer concentrates on each syllable, the first word stretches toward his ear,

"_Fiiiiiiind."_

Sawyer brings his hands up to his face and cups his ears, his hands trembling, while he hollers,

"Find what, damn it?"

The whispers answer him instantaneously, _"Find your family."_

He repeats the words, and shudders as he remembers Elle's final words about finding their children.

"Elle!" Sawyer races through the trees, stumbling over exposed roots, swatting vines and branches from his face, screaming for Elle.

"_Jim?"_

His abbreviated nickname, rarely used by Elle, lures him towards a secluded area, someone just beyond the foliage, turns toward the sound of Sawyer's heavy footsteps approaching. Sawyer pushes through the remaining overgrowth, catching his foot in an overexposed root, which lurches him halfway over, and mostly through the bushes, smacking his jaw on the jungle floor. Massaging his chin in one hand, he spits blood into the dirt, and sees a pair of boots and a hand reaching out toward him, the person speaks,

"Boss, you okay?"

"Miles?" Sawyer voice chokes on the frustration and the disappointment that suffocate his thoughts.

Miles offers a hand to assist Sawyer up, but Sawyer catches Miles' shirt and he throws him into a nearby tree, his face dangerously close, so close, that he spits onto Miles' face, as he growls,

"You think you're being funny, Enos," his eyes are narrow slits, his brow in furrowed into thin parallel lines of worry and anger.

"Jim," Miles gasps for air, "take it easy," he attempts to pull Sawyer's hands from his throat, but to no avail.

"Who do you think you are, playing these games?" Sawyer leans his forearm into Miles' neck, watching his friend's face, turn a sickening red.

A tear falls from Miles' eye and hits Sawyer's exposed arm. Sawyer teeters for a moment, losing his grip on Miles who takes advantage of this, grateful to be free of Sawyer's strangling.

"Have you lost your freakin' mind, man?" Miles throws daggers toward Sawyer whose hands are balled into fists at his sides.

"You heard her!" Sawyer accuses Miles, "You heard them!"

"What are you talking about!" Miles stumbles backward as Sawyer approaches him, and trips over the shovel, near the shallow grave for Juliet.

"Find my goddamn family," he manages to spit out.

"I didn't do a damn thing, Jim," Miles raised both hands, palm side up, a sign for placidity.

"But I'll do whatever it is you want, I'll help you find them, Jim," he tries to smile, but the pain beneath his adam's apple, smarts.

"Just ask without the brutality," he taps Sawyer on the shoulder and senses the man tremble beneath his hand.

"I," Sawyer manages to shake the fear off his body like a wet dog shakes itself dry after a bath, "I don't know what I'm doing, Miles." He admits with desperation.

Sawyer looks down at the grave that Miles had started to dig for Juliet. Seeing her, those empty blue sockets, that once smiled with laughter, Sawyer garners all his strength, the fermenting rage in the pit of his stomach, inhales the aromatic scents of the goddamned Island, and lets out one single, elongated breath. He runs his hands through his hair, kneels to Juliet, and closes her eyelids with one gentle stroke of his palm. Whispering only for the dead to hear, Saywer's lips begin to move,

"See you on the other side, Blondie."

Sawyer stands tall, shame laced in his eyes, as he tries to ignore Miles' annoying gaze, but to no avail, he smarts,

"She ain't gonna bury herself," and he proffers a hand towards the shovel, which Miles' relinquishes without a word.


End file.
